Calico
by mutietootie
Summary: Sometimes, he wonders if he should have ever left home. He's not saying he hates it here though, in his little city apartment with his spunky little wife and sweet little daughter. In fact, he loves it here, it's all he could have ever asked for. But, sometimes, at night, when the city quiets for its sleeping residents, he questions all of it. AKA, the Matsus Grow up


A man, round-faced and sly-eyed, checks through the peephole of his apartment's front door, to see a shadow, slick and shining in the lights of the outdoor corridor, dripping rainwater off of an ratty, old hoodie that reminds him of just a few years back.

Yep, it's one of them again.

It's not strange, seeing one of his brothers at his doorstep, but he has to admit, seeing one drenched in both sweat and rain is a bit peculiar. When he opens the door, the shadow is illuminated in a quick flash of lightning in the dark sky behind them. It's ominous as hell, as if foretelling a bad omen, but he discards the thought immediately. He puts on a grin, and greets brightly, "Oh, hey! Nice to see you, Ichimatsu. What are you doing out in the pouring rain?"

The other brother pauses a moment, then lightly sniffles in response.

Uh oh.

Osomatsu quickly pulls back into conversation, playing off the issue at hand. "What brings you? Out of eggs? Milk? Need a cup of sugar? Oh, you must want to pawn some booze off of me, huh?" He barks a joking and boisterous laugh, "Well, bad news, bro, I'm off the stuff with the kid around-"

Ichimatsu interrupts with another sniffle and drags his sleeve under his nose. His arm drops like a doll's, and as Osomatsu finally notices the fading redness under his eyes, his feelings are punctuated by a bit of a shudder in his breathing.

Oh, this is not good.

He turns and calls back into the corridor behind him, "Keiko, d'you mind putting Ai to bed?"

"Already done. It is almost midnight, after all, did you not notice the lack of a scampering little typhoon?" She calls back, "And get your brother in here already. It's pouring out and I do _not_ want another sick person on my couch."

"Of course, of course, just give me a minute." He comes back to face Ichimatsu, only to find him even wetter than before, and, strangely, peering over his shoulder into the hall behind him.

He clears his throat.

Ichimatsu jerks back into looking at him. He looks a little mortified.

The elder brother willfully draws in a breath. "You remember Keiko, right?" Osomatsu tries.

A blank stare.

"...We got married a couple months ago." The tension is rising, an awkward and uncomfortable atmosphere falling over them.

At Ichimatsu's turn to reply, nothing changes.

Osomatsu pauses to gulp and clear his throat. "...You were at the wedding."

Something changes in Ichimatsu's demeanor, almost as if something struck him in the back, and his eyes widen in realization.

He mumbles, "... I remember." Oh joy, the first words of the night, grumbly and low, with just a hint of nervous fear hiding behind chattering teeth. Then, he's avoiding his stare, eyes flying towards the corners of the doorframe. "...I didn't give a speech."

Osomatsu perks up with a grin, and decides to play off of that. "Heh, thank goodness for that. What you've seen of my antics is more than enough to break up even the sweetest little lovebirds, eh? We would hold the record for fastest divorce after that, wouldn't we?" He laughs loudly, only for it to die off at the realization that Ichimatsu was not laughing with him. A silent moment passes until he lets out a defeated breath, and steps out of the doorframe. "C'mon, buddy. Let's get inside."

They enter the corridor, and after Ichimatsu slips off untied, ratty converse; Osomatsu slings an arm over his shoulders in something of a comforting gesture, and guides him to the plush leather couch in the living room.

They both take their designated places on it, Osomatsu first, falling like a happy ragdoll; then Ichimatsu, stiff and composed, drawing his legs into his chest on the cushions.

They sit there in silence, unmoving, until Keiko appears from the kitchen with two piping-hot mugs of tea and a towel.

She sets everything down on the coffee table just in front of their legs, and, as she straightens, like a motherly goddess, hair of cocoa tied back in a relaxed bun, her hips powerful, thick and strong and with thighs to match, she wiggles her fingers in the direction of one of her recurring guests.

"Hi, Ichimatsu." She greets, cheery through plump lips and foxy eyes.

He grunts in reply. It's one of his more polite grunts, at least.

Keiko gestures to the towel and tea. "These are for you, help yourself. And I'm sure Osomatsu can lend you an extra outfit," She sneaks an impish glance over to her husband. "...That is, unless his rapidly gaining beer belly stretched everything out already."

Osomatsu scoffs, "Augh, I do _not_ have a beer belly." As he argues, a weight lifts from the other end of the couch. Before he can make something out of it, Keiko argues back.

"Oh, so we're expecting another child, then. Should I start planning the baby shower now or do you want to wait?" Red lips curl upwards in a smirk. She's teasing him, and teasing him _well._

No wonder he married her, he would never get with someone who couldn't take a gag or two. It was who he was, dammit, a comic, a wisecracker, the pinnacle of pranksters, and Osomatsu does not want to give up that title any time soon.

So he dons some smile to rival hers and retorts, "Now, please. I want those free diapers as fast as possible."

"And the breast pumps?"

"Of course! They seem like loads of fun."

She scoffs, "Babe, you are _insufferable._ "

"Love you too."

Then, with a smile, she's gone, through the doorway of Ai's bedroom, and Osomatsu is thrust back into a chilly atmosphere, his only companion a purple-clad pile of rainwater and ice who just might be staining his towels.

He prays to the heavens that she doesn't come back in any time soon.

Ichimatsu has dropped the towels now, if the previous slaps of drenched fabric hitting hardwood were any indication to go by, and has gone for the tea. He takes cautious sips with shaky hands, as if savouring it. Probably because it's warm. The poor guy is sopping wet, for goodness sakes, he must be freezing.

"Dude, are you cold?" Osomatsu asks.

The other jolts, some of the tea sloshing out of his cup with the frantic motion, and glances to the side, eyes wide. A moment passes in held silence, before he nods, shaking more rainwater out of his hair and on to the floor.

"Let's get you outta that wet sweater, ok? I'm pretty sure I still have some clean pjs you can borrow. Though, uh," He pauses, and glances towards Ichimatsu's waist before contemplating his own. "I'll try to find something with a drawstring for you."

As he stands, groaning under his own weight, he hears from out of his peripherals,

"She looks like Totoko."

Osomatsu stops, smiles, and says, "I know. Hell, how could you have missed it before?"

With his back turned to his brother, his tone shifts, and he says unkindly under his breath, "I'll let you take that however you want to."

The two head to the master bedroom, down the hall of the modest apartment, past two other rooms, one plain and unbearing, and another plastered pink with metallic stickers of flowers, stars, and to what was left of Ichimatsu's delight, kittens and cats galore.

Osomatsu nudges his wet elbow. "You like that? She chose them herself, you know." And with that cocky grin that still remains from his adolescence, he says, "I guess Ol' Unkey Ichi's got a bit of an influence on my dear little daughter, huh?"

Ichimatsu doesn't reply. He just stares at the door.

That's the cue to keep on going. If he doesn't outright protest, it means he's still listening.

"Yeah," Says the bigger brother, "Ai just loves those little guys, she's been begging us for a kitten for ages now. She likes the calico ones."

Unexpectedly, Ichimatsu's commentary arises. "...She's got good taste." He's still facing the door, as if talking to the knob. "Those are lucky, you know? Money cats, as they're called. Very friendly, too. They reach out to the quiet types. Though some of them can be unpredictable." His eyes then suddenly snap from forward to meeting Osomatsu's own, eyes lidded as ever, and forces a serious line onto his lips. "The cats people choose reflect their own values, nii-san. I'd be wary of that daughter of yours."

Then he meanders down the hall, still slumped over, but with a certain mystic vibe to him that could only be defined as "worthy of a prophet, yet worthy of the devil's antics as well."

Damn, that guy is scary.

Osomatsu's glad to be safe from him as a relative.

Enough of that though- Ichimatsu has already disappeared into the bedroom, and if the wet slop of a sweatshirt on his carpet was any more of a sign, he was probably already raiding his clothes.

Osomatsu quickly glances around the room, checking for abnormalities.

Lessee here- bed, pillows, window, curtains, wedding photo, and no dirty magazines in sight. All clear.

With the exception of the walk-in closet, where he assumed Ichimatsu to be digging farther into.

Upon further examination, yep, he was. And he was most certainly already half naked as he leafed through the assorted clothing in his own collection.

Suddenly, a pair of pajama pants flutter out and onto the floor, patterned with checks in a grey tartan, still too big for him, but nothing a knot in the drawstring couldn't fix.

In some sort of an impulse- he draws his attention to Ichimatsu's back.

What he sees is a jagged spine and ribs, sharply pushing through the skin marred with old stretch marks. Some of that skin hung loosely off from where a previously worn muffin top had sat on his stomach.

He looks like he'd hadn't eaten in years.

But he had been, Osomatsu knows it. Where it all went, he has no clue.

He whistles. "Whew, you're a skinny thing. I swear, you were a whole lot bigger when we lived together." Hell, the photo albums proved it.

"Mmph." Ichimatsu's words are muffled under the sounds of clothing being rustled through.

Something tells the elder brother that he knows it too. It could be self-inflicted at this point.

Or worse.

Just then, Ichimatsu comes up with something at the back of the closet.

A red hoodie, ratty, stained, stretched, full of holes, marked with the faded family symbol.

Osomatsu's eyes widen at the implication. No… that's his. That's his own prized memento. Now stricken with an immense possessive urge, he wants to snatch it from him and hold it close. With an intense effort, he manages to squash down the impulse.

He squeezes his eyes shut. Big brother thoughts… Big brother thoughts...

When he heaves out a breath and re-opens them, Ichimatsu is already engulfed in it, sleeves coming past his fingertips, and when he lifts them, a quick image of Jyushimatsu floats by in his mind.

The younger Jyushimatsu, that is. The one now has his shirts cuffed at the right length.

...Homura likes holding his hands. It's sickly sweet, like candy canes dunked in maple syrup, Shirley Temples drunk off maraschino cherry.

But, it's not outlandish in any sort. Osomatsu knows that oddball little brother of his would do anything for her.

Now stuck on the train of thought, the elder decides to inquire with Ichimatsu. He takes a seat on the edge of his bed and pats the spot next to him.

Ichimatsu hesitates a second, then creeps over to perch next to his brother. He's stiff, almost as if he was prey in front of a predator, ready to flee at any moment he senses danger.

Osomatsu wishes his brother would relax a bit. It's like he doesn't trust him or something.

...

His heart hurts.

But tossing that aside, Osomatsu clears his throat, preparing himself, and asks. "So, how's Jyushi? I haven't seen him in a while, you still live with him, right?"

Ichimatsu, now fiddling with the worn, ribbed ends of his sleeves, nods.

"Good, good. Does he know you're here?" Osomatsu knows of Ichimatsu's severe aloofness, how he will up and walk away with no rhyme or reason, and how he doesn't disclose when or where he went. It's problematic, for sure, but the brothers never felt guilty about allocating him his space. It's amazing that they haven't lost him yet. Maybe they should microchip him. Like a pet.

Ichimatsu shakes his head and, only after a moment's wait, croaks out a response,"...No, he and Homura are at an away game tonight." He hesitates again, then mumbles in defense, "I left a note though."

Osomatsu perks up. Now _that's_ some news. "Oooh, he's coaching? For what, the little leagues?"

Ichimatsu shakes his head. "No, college baseball. Waseda."

He balks in surprise. "Woah, seriously?! He's for the Tokyo Big6? Wow! I mean, I knew he was born with half a baseball for a brain, but really? Waseda?!"

Ichimatsu nods again.

"Holy crap, good for him. I'll have to catch him on TV one of these days. Heh," he laughs. "It's nice knowing that I can afford pay-per-view now. Remember when we had to beg Dad to pay for it? Jyushimatsu would throw a temper tantrum until he could watch his baseball."

"Mmph." Ichimatsu looks away.

"Why didn't you go with? You like playing with him. It could'a been fun!"

Ichimatsu stills a moment, then mutters something muffled through a closed mouth.

Osomatsu elbows him. "Speak up."

"...I wanted to give him some alone time. With his girlfriend." Ichimatsu croaks, forcing out the words just slightly louder. "They don't like to do their mushy-gushy shit with me around."

"...Dude. They're at a baseball game. How can they do gushy stuff at a stadium? I mean like there's people everywhere-"

"Kiss cam."

"... _Ohhhhhhhh._ " Osomatsu realizes, then happily coos, "Awww! Jyushi's getting smoochies! Ain't that the cutest!"

"...Yeah." The younger brother admits after a moment. "It's good that he's happy. I'm proud of him."

He may have said that, but Osomatsu detects a subtle melancholy in his polite tone, and decides to divert the subject.

He's here for _him_ today, after all. Let the small talk commence.

"Hey, Ichi," he prompts. "I hope you don't mind my asking, but, what are you doing nowadays?" An underlying question suddenly arises, something he has wondered for some time now.

He swallows. "Anything… job-wise?"

Ichimatsu looks down to the floor, cheeks reddening ever so slightly.

"Oh, hey, um, you don't have to say, you don't even have to have a job really-"

"I do." The statement is monotone and directed to the floor. "I do have a job. I'm not an incompetent." He spits.

At that, Osomatsu perks up, and a happy grin stretches out on his face. "Oh, of course you're not! What kind of job? Cashier? Secretary? Scientist? Nurse? You'll tell ol' nii-san, won't you?"

Prolonged silence from the other end.

Oh. Oh dear.

"...Ichimatsu, you're not doing something you'll regret, right?" He'll be damned if any brother of his is caught up in shady business. Could he be a drug dealer? A gunman? Assassin for hire? Prostitute? "Because if you are, I'll-"

"Blogger."

He freezes mid-outburst, then balks at the notion. "...What?"

"I'm a professional blogger."

A moment passes in shocked silence, Osomatsu astonished by what he had heard. Ichimatsu would never voluntarily force himself to be comfortable with strangers, no way. It would go against everything he was built upon.

He blurts, "...You? Communicating with people? For a _living?_ "

"What? No!" Ichimatsu pointedly exclaims. He freezes after the loud outburst, spooked at his own emotion, before withdrawing in again. "Or, well, um, yes? Kind of. It's…" He runs his tongue over his front teeth. "...more of an advice thing. Like an 'Ask Amy' but… even more anonymity."

Ah. Now _that_ makes more sense.

"Ohhhh! I see! Now that sounds like my little Ichimatsu! How's it working out for you? Tell me, tell me!"

Ichimatsu shuffles in his spot, drawing his knees up to his chest. "It's alright. I'm making a profit, at least. Ad revenue helps too, y'know." A soft yet struggling sigh escapes his mouth, a shudder in its wake. He continues on, but Osomatsu can't bear to listen.

 _He isn't proud of what he does,_ he thinks. _That, or he's lying._

When he tunes back in, Ichimatsu is still stuttering out jumbled sentences. "-getting more and more popular nowadays, I get so many e-mails… So many questions from so many different people… And then I realize that these are all people with actual problems who need actual answers to help them get along with their lives… And that…" he pauses, struggling to find equities to his emotions, "...that's a heavy weight on my shoulders. Admittedly, it's a hefty burden to bear, having all those people count on you; I find myself running away from some of the more serious ones, and then I'd lay awake at night, cursing myself for neglecting them."

He folds his hands together on his lap. "So, I started writing in the cat cafe downtown. The atmosphere there is really calming and quiet; it helps me with my answers sometimes. Not to mention, I get that pressure of being watched over my shoulder which pushes me to not flee the subject.

"Heh, I've been going over there so much that some of the cats wait for me, and the employees there are starting to have my tea ready by the time I walk in. I know everyone by name now, both workers and cats, and they know me." A little smile creeps onto his cheeks and the apples of his cheeks come to be tinted with an adorable pink. "It's actually… really nice."

Osomatsu reflects the smile, "Sounds like you're living the dream, eh buddy?" Something gentle worms its way into his demeanor, soft and pleasant. He's happy for his brother, proud even. The little guy's getting along well, albeit at his own pace. "Ooh! Have you told Totty about it?" He excitedly questions. "It sounds like something he'd be interested in. You could like… uh…" Words fail him. Fuck, the damn computer lingo never sticks with him, and now Ichimatsu is staring at him, thin eyebrow raised and smile now long gone, waiting for the rest of the thought.

He settles for gnashing his fingers together, but that ends up looking less like an effort to say "collaboration" and more something more lewd in nature.

And he declares that branch of conversation is over. He glances to Ichimatsu, who is staring at his hands, them still looking like a sad excuse of an anemone, and he knows that the feeling is mutual.

So, he pulls apart and claps his hands together, startling Ichimatsu's attention towards himself. "Alright, enough of that chit-chat. Let's quit beating around the bush." Osomatsu folds his hands together on his lap, mimicking some old psychiatrist archetype, and sends a sharp glare to Ichimatsu.

He's not letting his little brother avoid the subject any more.

"You came all the way here in the pouring rain for a reason, yeah?"

Ichimatsu looks away at the question, embarrassed and opposed to answering.

And so- like a sibling should, Osomatsu decides to pester the subject.

"...You feelin' lonely?" He tries.

"..."

"...You feeling sad?"

"..." No response. He seems really closed up about this.

"C'mon man, I can't help if you don't talk to me. What's up."

Ichimatsu freezes at that, and only after a long moment of silence, stiffly nods.

It takes a bit of thinking on Osomatsu's part to determine what that means. "So you're lonely… and sad?"

The same motion, repeated by the other.

Osomatsu's face falls. "Aw, dude, no. What's going on?"

His brother waves a hand in the air, the universal signal of brushing off the subject.

But he must be taking Osomatsu for a bigger fool than he actually is if he thinks he'll let go that easily. It's a big brother's job to pry, now, isn't it? "C'mon, spill. Something's up, bro."

He's still silent, fidgeting now, scratching at his arm, feelings trapped inside that pale chest of his, locked in with the burden of fear and anxiety.

Osomatsu is about to give up pressing him, not wanting to have to painfully drag something out of him with a hook on wire, when suddenly, Ichimatsu murmurs.

"I hate it."

"Hmm?"

"I hate it. How you all got your lives together."

"...What?" That doesn't make any sense. He's nowhere near all together, none of them are-

In an instant, Ichimatsu's glare snaps from burning holes into the floor to looking him straight in the eyes. Were they always this glossy? Where those dark circles always so big?

Osomatsu hates that he can't remember.

Voice rising in a choppy crescendo, Ichimatsu's confessions continue to spill out. "You've got everything planned out. All of you." His words are snappish now, pointed with a powerful indignation. "You've got a family, Jyushimatsu has his girlfriend, Choromatsu's got the best job in the world, Todomatsu's happy with his datemates, even Karamatsu's got _something_ going his way with that modeling thing!" He's hit the climax, the pinnacle of what anger in him has to offer, and at this point, there's nothing can hide anymore.

The truth bubbles up to spill out. "Me, I've got nothing! Nothing but a cat, a shitty website, a Cain complex, and a fucking death wish!" By the time the sentence is finished, Ichimatsu is struggling to breathe.

Osomatsu finds himself doing the same.

He gasps, honing in on only one part of the confession, then utters quietly. "...Please tell me you're just kidding about that "death wish" part." His words are strained, pleading even.

The other huffs stubbornly. "Feh, does it even matter? The world would be better off without me anyway-"

"Ichimatsu." The name is a deadpan, with a seriousness that had not been in Osomatsu's voice in a long time. "Tell me that you don't have a death wish. Be fucking honest with me. You've got it in you, I would know."

The other takes in a breath and opens his mouth, but the words die on his lips. He turns away slowly.

Osomatsu slowly starts to lose his grip on Ichimatsu, a grip on his collar that he can't even remember indicting, fingers leaving stretched indents on the fabric of his own hoodie. "I can't believe this. I… I don't…" He's sputtering, like an engine full of water. "After all these years, you're still at it. When we were younger I passed it off as sibling-driven angst but… You still feel that way?" His voice is soft and careful, yet shocked all the same. "You really want to die?"

A pause, both bodies struggling to breathe.

"If you want honesty, here it is."

The next word is quiet and grating, as if it fought tooth and nail to escape from Ichimatsu's mouth.

"...I." He mutters, eyes anywhere but Osomatsu's. "What I mean is… I-I don't care anymore. Nothing matters. I don't eat, I don't sleep- there's nothing I can do anymore." He's quivering at the confession, but pushes on forward. "So, in other words, yes. Death is an idea I've toyed with more than I should have. Lucky for you, I've always been too much of a coward to go through with it." A shaky sigh leaves his mouth and his hand quivers as it snakes up to cup his own cheek. "But, I'm terrified, honestly. Terrified that I won't make it to the day I finally will succeed, terrified I'll make it and then lose it all, terrified that I'll never even have that day." A stuttering gasp. "And I'm terrified that those fears are the only things keeping me alive."

The tears are rolling down his cheeks before he can even acknowledge their arrival. "Ichimatsu… C'mon buddy, don't think like that-"

"Shut up!" He shouts sharply, exasperated and wide-eyed, "I'm spilling my guts out in front of you and you _still_ don't really care! None of you do! You see, _this_ is why I feel worthless, _this_ is why I feel inadequate, that you and every other fucking person on this goddamn planet can't give a shit about me when I need help! I've had to provide for myself, work for myself, love for myself, and you bet your ass I want to _die_ for myself!"

And then, a smack. A loud sound of palm meeting cheek, echoing off the walls of the bedroom in a terrifying resonance, as Ichimatsu falls to the floor.

A stifled gasp comes from the hallway.

Keiko must have heard it.

But the well-being of his wife was not his top priority now. His hand, still hovering in the air, and the body collapsed on the floor take first place.

Osomatsu returns his hand to his side, pins and needles pricking the nerves at the tips of his fingers. He draws in a struggled and angry breath, and speaks, low and livid. "...Don't tell me that I don't care." He knows his face is pulled inwards, scrunched together in the way of pure fury's wrath on the human body, with the tugs on his hot cheeks. "Don't you tell me that I don't _fucking_ care. Because you know that that's a big pile of bullcrap, Ichimatsu.

"Remember when we were worthless little twenty-somethings still living with our mommy? I cared back then. Remember when we all picked up and left home after Choromatsu got a job? I cared back then. Through the moving, through the separation, through the isolation, I. Cared. But it was my responsibility, no, it was my utmost _duty_ as eldest to be strong and let you guys go off- even if I had to stay back. If that isn't caring, I don't know what is."

The other, floored in more ways than one, brings his fingers up to his now reddened cheek, eyes wide and watering, and touches the burning spot with ghosted fingertips. Then, under his breath, as if an escaped inner thought, he says, "You hit Jyushimatsu back then too." It's shy and scared how he says it, a just-realized memory blooming into fruition, and a realization soon after. "That's not caring," he says. "That's jealousy."

"It is not!"

"It's not caring. It's keeping your brothers down below you. It's believing that birth order should be the order of success."

"Shut up!"

Ichimatsu's voice is shaking now, "You never cared, did you? It was all just 'Osomatsu this, Osomatsu that, hell, call the flipping show _Osomatsu-san_!'"

He gasps in shock at the allegations, only for it to be followed by a growling and warning "Ichimatsuuu…"

But that won't stop the younger brother, he's too involved in yelling accusations. "Liar!" He screams, "Cheat! Selfish bastard! How could you have let me trust you for so long!? How could you have let _any_ of us!? No wonder we were NEETS, you've been pushing us down for our entire fucking lives!

"It's the final straw, Osomatsu nii-, no, just Osomatsu, I'm done. Finished. Don't you _dare_ to ever talk to me agai-!"

"Ichimatsu!" He suddenly snaps, and lunges to slam a hand over his mouth. "Shut up for a second."

Surprisingly, Ichimatsu doesn't struggle under the hold.

Everything stops for a moment, the only thing keeping time being the now-heard thuds and sniffles coming from just outside the door.

All of a sudden, the door creaks, and little padded feet toe their way into view.

"...Daddy?" someone says from the hallway, soft and wavering. A small hand sneaks to the doorframe.

"Shit." Osomatsu hisses, glancing back to the brother under his palm with a face of unbridled aggressive fury. "Now look at what at what you did."

Ichimatsu says nothing back, for both the reasons of the hand on his face and the freezing fear of what he had done.

If he had been scared before, he must have been absolutely horror-stricken now.

Osomatsu huffs in a breath, before calmly and sweetly speaking to the door. "Come in, sweetie."

The little one shuffles for a moment, still slightly spooked, before revealing themselves to the room's occupants.

A little girl stood there, dressed in precious pink pajamas stained with fresh tears. Her hair floated unruly in darling waves and ringlets, complemented by a small cowlick sprouting from her part. She held a stuffed animal to her chest by its head, its tail hanging low enough to touch the floor, as she hiccuped. Her round eyes shimmered in their wetness, her button nose twitching with every sniff.

All of a sudden, the fatherly instinct in him awakens, and he drops his brother to rush to her. "Oh no, Ai, what happened?" he cooes as he leans down to scoop his daughter up into his arms.

"No!" She suddenly screeches at his hands, her voice high and piercing to the whole household. "Don't!" She slaps at his hands, and dashes past him into the room behind. She scampers to the floor by the bed, just in front of Ichimatsu, and plops to sit in front of his still frozen face. She raises her arms in front of him, outstretched like a bird's, or more like a guardian cherub's.

He blinks in shock for a moment. "A-Ai-chan, what are you-"

"You're hurting him!" She interrupts with another screech. "Mommy said you hit him! You hit him in the face!"

He sputters at the confession. "Keiko did what now?"

"She's scared, Daddy! She was talking to the phone! To Unkey Fappy!"

 _Fuckingchristwhendidshehearthat-_

"Don't hit! Don't hit! Stop!" She's still screaming at him, tears rolling down her cheeks and her arms still raised in defence.

Wow. Never had he thought that his own daughter would go against him. He thought she loved him. He thought she trusted him. He thought she thought of him to be the best in the world.

...Could she think that she would be next? Or Keiko? No… he would never… he would never hurt his precious family-

And with that, he finally realizes what he had done.

"Oh my god." Osomatsu chokes.

"Oh my _god._ " The tingling at his fingertips still scampers up his arm.

"Oh my _GOD!" He actually hit him._

He was an idiot, a buffoon, comparable to a villainous attacker, a piece of crap as an older brother-

Cheese on crackers, he's really screwed up.

In a stuttered defense, he starts. "Ai-"

"It's fine."

...It's unexpected when Ichimatsu says it, drawing the attention of both father and daughter. "It's fine." he repeats. "Things just got a little heated, that's all." He's directing it towards the girl standing protectively in front of him, his voice more gentle than it has been in ages. "You don't have to worry, your dad won't do it again," Half-lidded eyes peer upwards to Osomatsu. "...won't he?" The two fully face him, expecting, both scared for their own reasons.

It's almost comforting to see that blank face, devoid of any emotion. It meant that Ichimatsu was back, back to a state the brothers were used to, one they could handle.

But, under the heavy stares of both his brother and darling child, he gulps. "Of course." Osomatsu says. "I'd never. Never again."

"See?" Ichimatsu softly mutters. "It's nothing. Nothing at all."

A moment passes in bated breath, only for the towers holding up the girl to suddenly collapse. Her knees buckle, and she falls to the floor, scuffing her pretty pink pj's on the carpeted floor.

"...Ok. I believe you." She shuffles around to pop into his lap, and slowly snakes her arms around his shoulders. "I believe Daddy too. I'm sorry, mister."

Ichimatsu huffs out something reminiscent of a chuckle. "For what? Your dad? Believe me, that sucker's done worse."

Ai leans back to look into his eyes, and suddenly her tear-streaked cheeks pop with her sudden realization. "Hey, are you another brother?" she asks him. "One of Daddy's?"

After a moment, Ichimatsu nods slowly.

"Really? Who?" She suddenly questions, peppy and bright, her previous sadness and fright now just mere afterthoughts in her newly found attention. "I don't think I've met you before! You're different than all my other uncles."

"Oh, really? How so?"

"Hum." She sorts her thoughts. "Well, Unkey Fappy-" (Osomatsu proceeds to choke behind his hand) "...is all polite, Unkey Todo is all cutesy, Unkey Jyushi is all big and loud, and Unkey Kara is all shiny and cool! But you're different! You're.. Umm…" She struggles with her words a moment, trying to decipher his personality in a 5-year-old's terms.

In an instant, she lights up even more. "Aha! You're all soft! Like cat tummies!

"...Soft?" Ichimatsu questions, nearly unheard out of his disbelief.

Osomatsu is surprised as well, "soft" is not his first thought when it comes to his fourth brother. At least, not anymore.

"Mm-hmm!" She continues, "Like tummies! Kitties are worried about their tummies, 'cuz that's where it hurts the most! They gotta be careful to keep it safe with their claws!" Her babble is endearing, excited and simple. "My mommy read a book to me about cats before. That's how I know!"

"Ehhh, really now? But," Ichimatsu raises his hand, offering her to grab onto it, and revealing bitten down nails and angry reds under his wrists. "I don't have claws." he admits. "I needed to take them off. Somebody told me they hurt me too much."

Osomatsu gasps softly. His fingers, his arms, he wants to scream at the implication. Damn himself, unobservant as he is- how could he have missed that? "Ichi-"

"Then me and Daddy will be your claws!" Ai interrupts, bubbly as ever. "I wanna keep your squishy bits all safe and stuff, and Daddy always listens to me, so he'll do it too!"

...Huh? What kind of crazy implication-

"...Right, Daddy?"

The eyes are on him again. They're glaring, beady even, almost a threat.

And so, he says again, "Of course."

...And a heavy door slams open from outside the room.

A scuffle of shoes follows it, slipping and squeaking, with Keiko's voice jumbled into the mix. It skids around the corner closest to them, and a much-too-familiar face pops from the edge of the doorframe.

Osomatsu tries to speak- to explain himself- but is cut off by nostalgic scoldings of " _What is this I hear about you slapping somebody, Osomatsu-niisan?!"_

Ai cheers "Fappy!", and, after some screaming about proper child-care, yet another scuffle ensues.

When Osomatsu glances up from delivering a chokehold to his blue-turning brother, he spots Ichimatsu out of the corner of his eye.

He and Ai are still sitting together, watching the tussle unfold, Ai cheering for her father, and Ichi letting out little whoops of support.

...And, admittedly, he looks the happiest he's seen him all night.

A tsk. "Dang, that's a number done on your cheek, Ichi. It's even swelling a bit." Choromatsu brushes his fingers on the reddening handprint on his younger brother's face, prompting a small hiss. "Oh, gee, sorry. It probably still stings, huh." He removes his hand, choosing to instead swing his arm around Ichimatsu's back, hefting him up to his feet. "Let's get you home, you want to be back for Jyushimatsu, now, don't you?"

Ichimatsu nods, eyes downcast.

His hand sneaks to the bottom of his sleeve, and his claws unsheath-

Only for Choromatsu to grab at it, closing it in his own, and for him to shake his head.

...So he knows too.

It's good for him to, in Osomatsu's opinion, at least he has another crutch to stand on. How many is that now, three?

...Well, four if you count Karamatsu. Not that Ichimatsu would, of course. Sibling hatred doesn't die, it seems.

But they leave the room despite all that, and maneuver themselves to the exit corridor.

Choromatsu calls to Keiko for some ice or a bag of frozen peas or something, as to which she throws from the safety of the kitchen.

It smacks him in the face, leaving a cold, red, print on his nose.

Ha ha, what is this, a skit comedy?

He wishes. Hell, he bets they all do. Nothing could compare to the charades that went down back then.

...But then again, no one was really happy back then either. It's actually pretty painful, now that he thinks about it.

They're halfway done with slipping their shoes on when Osomatsu refocuses.

Keiko is now standing behind him, waving to their leaving guests with a light "Toodles!" and Ai clutches to his knee, also bidding farewell to her lovely uncles.

He catches them at the border of in and outside.

"Well," he starts, "I guess this is goodbye for now. It was nice to have you guys over, despite it being the dead of night. That being said, you might want to plan your next visit to be before bedtime." Osomatsu winks. "I need my beauty sleep, you know. I gotta look fresh for my girls."

It solicits a little huff of laughter from the other brothers, before it falls to silence.

A moment passes...

And Choromatsu nudges Ichimatsu forward with a pointy elbow.

The younger hisses at him, all bark but no bite, before shuffling closer to his eldest brother. "Bye, Osomatsu-niisan." He says. "Thanks, I guess."

"No prob, you pussywillow." A wink and a cheeky grin. "Come back anytime. Hell, we might even call you in for babysitting," he rubs his finger under his nose, "...That is, if you're up to it."

"I'll think about it." His words are serious and straight, but just tinted with an adorable cheer.

That's it- he can't take it anymore, "Oh, come on, bring it in, bro!" He opens his arms wide, and thankfully, Ichimatsu rushes into them without a second thought.

He's warm. Skinny and frail, sad and alone, dependent and aloof, but still warm as ever, nestled in his borrowed hoodie.

...The words are out before he can even realize it. "I'm so sorry."

It appears the same has happened to the other. "You don't need to be."

And for the first time in ages, he thinks of his brother as soft. Instinctively, his hands move down to the other's lower back and squeeze tight, protective of those soft guts in that belly of his.

...Yeah, he'd gladly be this kid's claws. That he knows for sure.

Ichimatsu lets go of Osomatsu's back, separating them way too soon, and faces the little girl standing at her father's feet. "Bye-bye, Ai." He calls to her with a shy wave.

"Bye-bye… uh.. uhm..."

"Ichimatsu. Uncle Ichimatsu. You can call me Ichi if you want."

"Ooh! Bye-bye Unkey Ichi!"

And, with a curt wave by Choro, they set out, hand in hand, under the protection of a green umbrella.

They walk down the corridor, and exit through the side staircase shortly after. And through the wet night they trek, down the center street and in the direction of close-by suburbia.

Gee, it had never occurred to the eldest brother how good Ichimatsu was with kids. Maybe they were like cats, in their own way.

A tug on his sleeve interrupts his watching of them. "Daddy?" Ai peeps from below. "I like Unkey Ichi. Can he visit again?"

"Really, honey? Why do you like a downy ol' fart like him?"

"He's like a kitty. Like the spotty ones."

"He's a calico, huh?" he grins to her. "Funny, he said the same about you, kiddo."

Suddenly, Osomatsu remembers that conversation in front of the door. He looks down to the little girl beside him, smiling softly, and reaches to pick her up.

"Those are lucky, you know?" He says to her, "Money cats, as they're called. Very friendly, too. They reach out to the quiet types."

They walk back through the doorframe, and the door swings shut behind them.

"Though some of them can be unpredictable."


End file.
